


Ghosts Of Christmas Future

by loves_books



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst, Community: lewis_challenge, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lewis Secret Santa 2015, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5639389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The December sky was a clear, pale blue, with barely a few wisps of white clouds to be seen. It almost certainly wouldn’t be a white Christmas this year, not unless the weather took a dramatic turn overnight...</p><p>A few months after ‘What Lies Tangled’, and just a few short days before Christmas, James is injured in the line of duty. Christmas Eve finds him on the road to recovery, and the stories here feature four different aftermaths of this same event, in four possible futures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Spectre Of Solitude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMuchTooMerryMaiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMuchTooMerryMaiden/gifts).



> Written as part of the Lewis Secret Santa 2015, with grateful thanks to my beta Wendymr.
> 
> The title, four chapter headers, and the original idea are all inspired by the wonderful ‘A Christmas Carol’ by Charles Dickens, though there are no actual ghosts to be found here.

_The December sky was a clear, pale blue, with barely a few wisps of white clouds to be seen. It almost certainly wouldn’t be a white Christmas this year, not unless the weather took a dramatic turn overnight._

But perhaps that was for the best, James couldn’t help thinking. It hardly felt like Christmas at all, really, not this year. With a wince, he wrapped an arm carefully around his middle as he turned away from the window and walked slowly back towards the sofa. He shouldn’t really even be out of bed according to the doctors, but with no one else around to help he’d had to make his own way to the bathroom and then the kitchen. The bedroom seemed far too distant after all that effort.

He lowered himself down gingerly into the pile of cushions waiting there, and managed to tug one of the thick, fleecy blankets off the back of the sofa, draping it over his outstretched legs before letting himself relax with a soft sigh. He had the TV remote nearby, his pills, a fresh mug of tea and a large bag of crisps – not what the doctor ordered, maybe, but it would be more than good enough for him.

Earlier, James had thought briefly about venturing out to the nearest Tesco Express, but now he was very glad he’d ordered online and had something delivered instead. How was it possible to be quite this exhausted after doing so very little? It was only a little cut, after all. At least, that’s what he’d told Lizzie when she’d phoned from Canada, where she was spending Christmas with Tony. And that was what he’d tell Robbie, if the station gossip had reached as far as New Zealand. 

But it wasn’t a little cut, not really. It was a great big gash in his side that had taken eighteen stitches to close, and he’d been told that if the knife had gone even a few millimetres deeper then he might have needed surgery. It could even have perforated his bowels, in the worst case scenario, but there was no point dwelling on what might have been. James just needed to rest, take his painkillers and antibiotics, and take it easy until the stitches could come out. 

Good thing he’d been given the week off work, really. Had already been given the week off, even before being attacked by a knife-wielding maniac while trying to defend an unconscious young man. He’d protested when the holiday rotas had first been announced a few weeks ago, but ‘just call me Joe’ had insisted, since Lizzie had already booked the time off and James had worked over Christmas for the last four years. Now, it meant that he could just curl up in his flat and do absolutely nothing, feeling a little sorry for himself, rather than trying to drag himself into work and carry on as normal.

It wasn’t the first Christmas James had spent alone, but it would be the first in a number of years, and certainly the first with him injured. Nell had sent a lovely card, and they’d spoken briefly a few days ago – the day before he’d been hurt – but they still weren’t close, not even since their father had finally passed peacefully away two months back. James hadn’t extended a Christmas invitation to his sister, nor had he expected one in return. 

He had already decided that he wouldn’t even mention this little incident when he called her in the morning. He didn’t want her to feel obliged to come over and try to take care of him. It would just make both of them feel awkward.

He didn’t need taking care of at all, James told himself, even as his side started to ache fiercely. A quick glance at his watch told him he had another hour before he could reasonably take any more painkillers, so instead he shifted carefully on the sofa and pulled the blanket a little higher, closing his eyes with a tired sigh.

There would be no midnight mass for him this year, sadly, although the BBC would doubtless be showing a service at some point. He’d planned on volunteering at a local homeless shelter on Christmas Day itself, and he’d have to remember to call them tomorrow to apologise for his absence. TV, some music, a book or two, and what Robbie had always amusingly referred to as a ‘pierce and ping’ turkey dinner – there were certainly worse ways to spend a Christmas, James felt. And at least he hadn’t had to stay in hospital for longer than just the one night.

James wasn’t aware of having fallen asleep, but when a loud ringing startled him awake it was suddenly dark outside. He fumbled around on the coffee table, hissing as his stitches pulled painfully, until he finally got his hands on his phone. “Hathaway,” he rasped, coughing briefly to clear his throat. “Hello?”

“James, lad!” At the sound of Robbie’s cheerful voice, James let himself sink back into the cushions with a simultaneous smile and wince. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything?” 

He rested one hand carefully over his right side, suddenly very aware of the sharp stabbing pain which told him he was most definitely overdue for painkillers now. Still, it was incredibly good to hear that familiar Northern voice. “Robert. Hello. No, you’re not interrupting.” 

“Hoped I’d manage to catch you before you went off to mass.” Robbie sounded good, James thought; happy and healthy, and clearly enjoying life. “Wanted to wish you a happy Christmas Eve.”

“What time is it over there?” James asked, too fuzzy from both interrupted sleep and pain to work out the relevant maths.

“Early on Christmas Day for us, only eight in the morning. We’re off to spend the day with Laura’s cousins out of town in a bit, so this’ll have to be a quick call, I’m afraid. You okay? Have to admit, I half expected to get your answerphone and find you’d gone into the office after all.”

James found himself smiling again at the fond teasing in Robbie’s words. “No, I’m off for the whole week. Threatened with pain of death if I go anywhere near the station, no less.” By the doctors as well as the chief super, but Robbie didn’t need to know that. He hadn’t heard what had happened, clearly, and that was definitely for the best; James didn’t want to worry Robbie or Laura, not when he would be recovered soon enough.

“Good, glad to hear it.” In the background, James could suddenly hear Laura’s voice calling for Robbie. “Look, James, I’m going to have to go. I’ll give you a call this evening when we get back, and I guess it’ll be Christmas Day for you too by then. This bloody time difference still makes my head spin, I swear.”

Suddenly, James felt his eyes prickling with unwanted tears, and he wished Robbie could just stay on the phone with him a little longer. “Happy Christmas, Robbie,” he said quietly, trying to keep the pain from his voice. “To you and to Laura, and her family.”

There was a brief silence before Robbie asked, “James? Is everything all right?” 

Damn those detective’s instincts. James shook his head, though he knew the other man couldn’t see him, even as he replied, “I’m fine. It’s just… good to hear your voice, that’s all. Go on, Laura’s waiting for you.”

There was a long pause, so long that James wondered if they’d lost the line. Then finally, “You’re sure?”

“Robbie, go. Have a wonderful Christmas Day and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Tonight, for me.” A soft laugh, and James could almost imagine Robbie shaking his head, those bright blue eyes shining. “Okay, I’d better go. Bye for now, then.” 

And just like that, Robbie was gone, leaving James with the phone pressed to his ear listening to the dial tone. “Bye, Robbie,” he whispered, hesitating a second before confessing to his silent flat – “I really wish you were here.”


	2. The Phantom Of Friendship

_The December sky was a clear, pale blue, with barely a few wisps of white clouds to be seen. It almost certainly wouldn’t be a white Christmas this year, not unless the weather took a dramatic turn overnight._

The sound of a key turning in the front door pulled James out of his idle musings and made him turn from the window just in time to see Lizzie bustling in to his flat. Her arms were full of an assortment of Tupperware containers and canvas bags which all seemed to be bulging with a mixture of food packages and colourfully-wrapped parcels, and she even had an overstuffed rucksack slung over one shoulder.

The first words out of his sergeant’s mouth were, predictably, “And just what do you think you’re doing up?” 

“I’m not up,” James protested half-heartedly, already starting the slow shuffle back towards the nest he’d built on the sofa, one arm wrapped carefully around his middle and hunching forwards slightly to ease the strain. “Not really up, at least.”

“You know what the hospital said. You’re supposed to stay off your feet as much as possible, let those stitches start to heal.” Lizzie shook her head at him with a mixture of fondness and annoyance before moving off towards his kitchen.

“Call of nature,” James said as she disappeared, smiling as he lowered himself slowly back down into the pile of cushions and blankets. “Can’t do that from the sofa.”

There was the sound of cupboards being opened and closed, and things being moved around; James had the sudden sinking feeling that he’d never be able to find anything after Lizzie was finished. “Then you should’ve waited until I got back, in case you fell over, or something happened.”

He just shook his head with another small smile, gingerly lifting his legs up one at a time and pulling the blankets back over himself, a little tighter than before. He’d suffered little more than a nasty scratch – albeit a scratch that had needed eighteen stitches to pull his torn side back together – but his DS was turning out to be quite the little mother hen, and he couldn’t help being selfishly glad that she was so willing to spend her Christmas Eve with her injured boss.

“Any word on Tony yet?” he asked, trying to change the subject yet also genuinely interested in the answer. Lizzie’s husband had been due to fly back in that morning so they could spend Christmas together, but heavy snow in Canada had meant a string of delays and cancellations from all airports.

“Looks like there won’t be any more flights until Boxing Day at the very earliest.” 

Oh. There wasn’t much James could say to that, except – “I’m sorry. Really.” He knew just how much Lizzie had been missing Tony, and all the plans she’d made for their precious week together. He’d had to listen to some of those plans in far too much detail, and had even offered a few suggestions of his own.

Lizzie padded back through from the kitchen, wearing a pair of felt reindeer antlers and carrying two steaming mugs. “Thanks. Just one of those things, I guess. I’ll still see him soon enough. Definitely before the new year.” She sounded so very disappointed, James couldn’t help but think, even though she had a smile plastered on her face as she handed over one of the mugs. 

It was hot chocolate, with tiny pink and white marshmallows melting on top, and James took a couple of grateful sips before saying, “You can celebrate Christmas together a couple of days late, I’m sure. And if you need an extra day or two off, you know I’ll do whatever I can to make it happen.”

“You are on sick leave, remember?” Lizzie settled into one of the armchairs and grabbed the TV remote right from under James’s nose. “But thanks, boss.”

He smiled at her gently teasing tone, but still felt compelled to remind her, “If we’re spending Christmas Eve together and you’re making me hot chocolate in my own kitchen, Lizzie, then you should really call me James.”

“Okay then, James.” Lizzie’s smile seemed a little less forced as she sipped at her own mug of chocolate. “Now, I’ve brought over all the food I’d already prepped for tomorrow, and I took the liberty of bringing over some of my presents too, so I can open them in the morning.”

“You’re staying over?” James blurted out, wincing and then gasping as he tensed his stomach muscles in surprise, his stitches pulling painfully. Immediately Lizzie was back on her feet and over to his side, her hot chocolate forgotten as she smoothed his blankets down and generally hovered over him.

“Of course I’m staying over. You think I’m leaving you on your own when you’ve been hurt like this?” Lizzie told him firmly, easing him back into his nest. 

James was oddly touched by the worry he could hear in her voice. “I thought you’d drive up to Leeds, maybe,” he confessed, letting her fluff his pillows up slightly before waving her back to her chosen chair. “See the rest of your family. You don’t want to spend Christmas with me, surely?” 

Lizzie gave him a one-shouldered shrug as she scooped her mug back up. “Though we could watch some dodgy telly this evening, then maybe midnight mass on the BBC. I can kip on your couch, so I’ll be around if you need anything, and I do a mean fry-up for breakfast. You’ve not lived until you’ve tried my fry-up.”

“Lizzie…”

“And I thought we could just have a quiet day tomorrow. You can beat me at scrabble, maybe. I can make a simpler version of a traditional Christmas dinner, and more importantly I can make sure you stay off your feet. I need my DI back in working order as soon as possible, after all.”

“Lizzie, I’m going to be fine, you know. It wasn’t your fault.”

James knew he’d hit the nail on the head when his sergeant bit at her lower lip, shaking her head slightly. “I should’ve seen he had a knife,” she said quietly, not quite meeting his gaze. “If I’d seen it, then I’d – ”

“You might’ve been the one hurt, not me. As it was, you had him disarmed and in handcuffs before I’d even figured out what happened.” James hadn’t even realised he’d been cut until Lizzie had started yelling at him to sit down and put some pressure on his right side until the ambulance arrived. “You did everything you could possibly have done and then some, and I’m really going to be okay.” 

Another shrug, followed by a far more natural, teasing smile. “Good. I still don’t fancy the drive up north, though, and I’ve brought everything over now. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid, James. If you’ll have me.”

“If you’re sure, then of course I’d be delighted to have your company.” As soon as the words left his mouth, James was surprised to realise how true they really were. Not because he was in pain, though it would be lovely to have someone around to take care of him for a change, but because otherwise they would both have been on their own – while Nell had sent him a Christmas card, the first and only contact he’d had with her since their father had passed away, and Robbie had promised to call him in the morning, James’s only Christmas plans had been to attend mass and help out at a shelter.

Lizzie raised her mug to him in a mock-toast. “Happy Christmas, James,” she said with a smile.

“And a Happy Christmas to you too, Lizzie.”


	3. The Shade Of Family

_The December sky was a clear, pale blue, with barely a few wisps of white clouds to be seen. It almost certainly wouldn’t be a white Christmas this year, not unless the weather took a dramatic turn overnight._

Snow would have been nice, though, James thought with a small smile. It would have felt right, somehow.

The sound of the front door opening and closing, quickly followed by the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs, made him turn away from the window and start to shuffle carefully back towards the bed. He’d been on the receiving end of several well-intentioned lectures since being discharged from hospital yesterday, and sure enough a familiar voice called out, “James Hathaway, if I find you out of bed then I make no promises as to what I’ll do with you. I know all the best ways to get rid of a body, remember.”

James slipped obediently back between the covers with a smile, before hissing slightly as the stitches in his side pulled painfully. “I’m not out of bed, Doctor,” he called back as he sank into the pillows, pressing one hand to his right side. “Scout’s honour.”

Laura appeared in the bedroom doorway, her slightly narrowed eyes and the hint of a frown on her forehead suggesting that she didn’t entirely believe him. “Glad to see it,” she told him firmly, her expression easing as she crossed the room to his bedside and straightened the blankets over his long legs, stopping just short of tucking him in. “I know you probably think we’re being overprotective but you really do need to stay off your feet, at least for a little while.”

“I know.” James reached out to catch Laura’s hand in his own, squeezing as tightly as he could. “Believe me, Laura, I do know.”

“Good, then.” Laura smiled at him, leaning over to kiss him firmly on the cheek and then the brow, and, just as always, James could feel himself blush.

Of course that would be the very moment when Robbie chose to stick his head around the bedroom door. “What’s all this then?” the older man asked jokingly, taking in the scene before him. “I turn my back for five minutes…”

“Oh hush, you,” Laura scolded him fondly, and James let himself relax a little further into the bed, watching the loving smiles the happy couple exchanged. “I’m just making sure this one stays put, as he’s supposed to.”

Robbie shrugged, bright blue eyes flicking between Laura and James as he leant on the doorframe. “Thought he might be up to coming downstairs and stretching out on the couch for a bit, and we could put a film on or something.”

James huffed a soft laugh, shifting slightly and feeling a sharp twinge of pain shoot through his side. “He is right here, and he could certainly make it down the stairs.” He paused a moment before continuing, knowing the response he was likely to get but feeling that he needed to make the offer anyway. “In fact, not that I don’t appreciate you having me here, but I’d really be okay back at my flat. It’s only a little scratch, and you don’t need me clogging up your spare room over Christmas, not when you’re only just back from the other side of the world.”

He’d been meant to pick them up at the airport two days ago, but instead Lizzie had been sent to meet them after James had been attacked by a knife-wielding nutter at a crime scene. His ‘little scratch’ had actually needed eighteen stitches to close up, and he’d even been kept in hospital overnight – he’d never dreamed that the first time he’d see Robbie and Laura again after their six months away would be from a hospital bed, and there had been careful hugs and even a few tears from all of them, James included, though he thought he could blame his on the blood loss. 

Just as James had expected, both Robbie and Laura looked aghast at the prospect of letting him leave, and Robbie actually crossed the room to stand at the foot of his bed just as Laura perched carefully on the mattress next to him.

When they came, though, Robbie’s words were still something of a shock. “James, lad, we almost lost you. You scared the life out of us, and if you think you’re going anywhere after that then you’re insane.”

Laura reached over to smack Robbie gently on the arm. “I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, James,” she said gently, turning to face him. “But I do agree you’re not going anywhere except possibly down to the living room if you promise to behave. You have to remember how serious this was. You lost enough blood that they kept you in hospital for observation, and that knife cut deep enough that you’re on prescribed painkillers and antibiotics. Any deeper and you might have needed surgery, or we really could have lost you.”

James didn’t quite know what to say. He understood it had been bad, of course, but the last thing he’d ever wanted was to worry or inconvenience his friends in such a way. “Laura, Robert, I – ” 

“Besides,” Robbie cut in roughly, patting James’s blanket-clad foot. “It’s Christmas Eve, and you’re family to us, man. You belong right here.”

Family. A lump rose in James’s throat at the very thought – he’d sadly lost his father two months ago, and he and Nell hadn’t spoken a single word since the funeral, though he’d received a nice enough Christmas card from her and sent one in return.

He managed a nod, too choked up to speak, though he trusted that Robbie and Laura knew just how much they both meant to him in return. He’d never been good at saying it out loud, even in his best of health.

Laura kissed him on the cheek again, very gently, and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “Now, no more talk of leaving us alone over Christmas,” she told him softly. “You are more than welcome here with us, James Hathaway, injured or not.”

“Thank you,” James managed to whisper eventually, and he cleared his throat enough to add, “I’m very glad you both decided to come back in time for Christmas after all, I have to say.”

It was Robbie’s turn to laugh at that, and he moved up behind where Laura sat, wrapping an arm around her in a tight embrace. “That was all this one’s idea,” he told James with a wink, dropping a quick kiss on Laura’s hair. “Couldn’t stand the idea of it being hot for Christmas Day.”

“Well it wouldn’t be right, would it? Whoever heard of having Christmas on the beach?” Laura sounded suitably indignant at the very idea, glancing up at Robbie even as she reached out to stroke James’s hair again, apparently without consciously thinking about it. 

James found his eyes drifting closed at the soothing gesture – he hadn’t registered quite how exhausted he was yet again, for no good reason. Except, he realised belatedly, for the blood loss and pain, the sheer comfort of having someone to take care of him, and perhaps even the overwhelming joy of having someone to spend Christmas with after all. He really was so very lucky, in so many different ways.

“Why don’t you have a sleep and we’ll wake you later for some dinner?” Robbie suggested softly, amusement clear in his tone, and James just grunted in response, unable to open his suddenly heavy eyelids.

Laura kissed him on the cheek one final time before the mattress dipped as she presumably stood to leave. A moment passed, and then a second, rougher pair of lips dropped a quick kiss to James’s forehead. 

“Happy Christmas, James,” Robbie whispered, and James fell asleep with a smile on his lips.


	4. The Spirit Of Love

_The December sky was a clear, pale blue, with barely a few wisps of white clouds to be seen. It almost certainly wouldn’t be a white Christmas this year, not unless the weather took a dramatic turn overnight._

Snow would have been just lovely, though, James couldn’t help but think. Never mind. There was always next year.

“And what are you doing out of bed then, love?”

James turned away from the window slightly, glancing over his shoulder at where Robbie stood in the bedroom doorway. “Call of nature,” he explained softly. “And then just stretching my legs for a moment. Needed a change of scenery.”

With a slightly exasperated sigh, Robbie came towards James across the room, shaking his head. “I’d be the same, I suppose. Neither of us are much good at sitting around doing nothing. Still, doctor’s orders and all that.”

Turning back to the view from their bedroom window, such as it was, James smiled happily as Robbie came up behind him, his broad chest pressing against James’s narrow back. “The bed was getting cold without you,” he admitted, leaning backwards slightly and trusting Robbie to take his weight. 

Robbie huffed a fond laugh, hands coming up to rest gently on James’s waist. “Didn’t think I’d been gone long enough to let it get cold. Braved the raging hordes and got the last of the food shopping in, though. We’re all set for Christmas now, and I’ll not be leaving you again, not for anything.” 

“I still say you should’ve ordered in.”

“And I say again, I like to pick out my own veg, thank you very much.” Strong arms slid slowly around James’s body, touching him so carefully and so tenderly. Robbie wrapped one arm low around James’s belly, with a large hand anchoring to James’s hip in a possessive yet loving grip, while the other hand came to rest with a feather-light pressure over his right side. 

Over the thick padded dressing taped in place there, cushioning the long knife wound James had suffered two days earlier. Even through the multiple layers of his jumper, t-shirt and bandages, James still felt a twinge run through his muscles at Robbie’s gentle touch, though he made no move to shake the other man off. 

The slight ache was reassuring, in its own strange way. James knew he had come so close to not being here at all. If the knife had cut deeper, or at a different angle… Eighteen stitches seemed a small price to pay for standing here in Robbie’s arms, when it could all have been so very different.

Robbie’s thoughts, it seemed, had turned in the same direction. “There was so much blood,” he whispered, resting his chin on James’s shoulder. “I’ve seen worse, of course. Seen much worse, doing this job we do, and I’ve seen you shot at and punched, but I never thought I’d see…” He broke off with a sigh, and James lifted his hands to rest on Robbie’s arms in an attempt at reassurance.

James could imagine all too well what Robbie had felt when he’d seen the blood flowing from his wound. He knew how he would feel if it had been Robbie who had been injured right in front of him; worried sick, and guilty, and absolutely terrified that he might lose his other half all too soon, when they’d only just found their way together. 

“You never expected to see it happen to someone you care about,” he whispered back to Robbie, closing his eyes as those arms tightened ever so slightly, pulling him a fraction closer. 

“More than just someone I care about. Someone I love, you daft sod.” Robbie pressed a warm kiss to James’s neck, rocking them slowly in place where they stood together by the window. “Must say, this wasn’t quite what I planned for our first Christmas Eve together.”

“Me neither. Actually, I never dared plan anything for Christmas together. I never dared hope…” He took a deep breath and shook his head once before adding, “I’m just so very glad that you’re here with me.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be in the whole world, love.”

“Really?” The question slipped from James’s lips without any thought, and Robbie immediately kissed him again, on the cheek this time.

“Really and truly.” The honesty in Robbie’s voice was undeniable, and James felt the flood of reassurance he hadn’t realised he needed. A part of him still couldn’t quite believe how everything had worked out for them both over the last six months; it still felt as if he was dreaming, and if that was true, then he never wanted to wake up. 

Robbie had flown back into James’s life from New Zealand after only a few weeks away, a single man once more, and moved into James’s spare room. There had been no real drama, he’d assured a worried James, just a realisation that he and Laura had both had coming for some time: they weren’t meant to be. Robbie had returned to work, and he and James had returned to their comfortable, relaxed friendship, but there had been a new undercurrent between them. 

A slight tension, a hint of electricity even, which had only seemed to grow as the weeks then months went by. It had been something James himself had felt for years, though he’d long since stopped hoping it might ever come to anything.

And then, two short weeks ago, they’d finally fallen into each other’s arms with almost no fanfare at all, as if it was all just meant to be. 

“I had all these plans,” Robbie mused in a teasing tone, and James opened his eyes to watch their faint reflections in the glass. Those bright blue eyes he loved were focussed on the horizon, above the bare treetops, and there was a tender smile hovering on Robbie’s lips. “All these things I wanted to do to you. Things I wanted you to do to me. As a Christmas present, you know? A whole series of presents, even.”

That smile on Robbie’s lips left James in no doubt whatsoever as to what his partner was referring to, and he had to clear his throat before he was able to ask, “What sort of things?”

Robbie’s smile grew positively filthy, and he pressed his lips to James’s neck again, biting gently over his pulse point. “All sorts of things,” he growled softly, his voice dropping into a deeper, warmer register as he continued. “Things we certainly can’t do with you hurt like this. But maybe if you’re good, in a week or so I might be convinced to give you a happy ending in the shower. And when your stitches come out, well… I reckon you could lie back and let me ride you, perhaps. Keep the strain off your muscles until they heal up properly. If you fancy that.” 

Even though he knew he wasn’t up to anything of the sort at that very moment, James groaned in delight at the very idea, letting his head drop forwards to rest on the window. “God, Robbie…” 

“Not with you hurt, though, love. We’ve got all the time in the world once you’re all healed up again. For now, you are going to just let me take care of you, and we’ll have ourselves a nice, traditional Christmas, or as much of one as I can manage without you to do the cooking.”

“I can still do the cooking.” A sudden throb of pain from his torn side made James reconsider. “Or sit and direct you, at least.”

“Turkey dinner on the couch, wrapped up all cosy in blankets. Watch the Queen, then Doctor Who. If you’re good, I might even let you beat me at scrabble.” Robbie paused briefly before adding, almost apologetically, “You won’t be able to go to mass, though, James. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” This was the longest James had been on his feet since the hospital had discharged him yesterday, and he was already starting to feel exhausted and little shaky. Part of that was the blood loss, part of it the prescription painkillers and antibiotics, and part of it was just his body remembering how deeply that knife had really cut. A flash of a memory, of pain and fear, of Robbie and Lizzie’s worried voices and hovering faces, and James suddenly felt his legs threaten to give way. “Robbie, I think I need – ” 

“Easy, pet. I told you, you aren’t supposed to be out of bed yet.” With no fuss and strong, gentle hands, Robbie quickly yet carefully helped James back across the room, tucking him beneath the blankets and fluffing up the pillows around him. “There now. When are you due another pill?”

“Not for another hour, but I’m okay, really. Just overdid things a bit.” James caught Robbie by the hand as the other man went to move back. “Sit with me a while? Please?”

Robbie kissed James gently on the lips before sliding beneath the blankets to sit propped against the headboard on James’s good side. “Always, love,” he whispered as he wrapped a strong arm around James’s shoulders, pulling him close and tugging the blankets higher still over them both. “Always.” 

Cushioned on soft pillows and cuddled close to the man he loved, James let his eyes fall closed with a tiny sigh as the pain in his side eased to a bearable ache. Even though he was injured, he couldn’t help feeling that it was actually shaping up to be a truly wonderful Christmas, just because Robbie had chosen to be here with him. 

It might not be the Christmas Eve either one of them had planned, but it could all have been so very different. In another life, James might have been spending the day injured and alone, or suffering Lizzie hovering over him with her best ‘mother hen’ routine. Robbie and Laura could have both been there, back early from New Zealand and still in love, or of course if that knife had cut deeper still then James might not have been there at all.

He couldn’t help but shudder slightly at the very thought, even as he felt sleep starting to beckon. Without saying a word, Robbie simply drew him closer as if he knew exactly what James was thinking, chasing away all those ghosts of what might have been with a loving kiss to his temple.


End file.
